i love you, most ardently
by anonymous.mystery95
Summary: p&p au. From Netherfield Park to Rosings Park, the person and character of Miss Snow had confused and disgusted Mr Barry Allen, had intrigued and repulsed him. But just when he feels he can begin to understand and see her as others do, his world falls from beneath him. And he isn't ready for her secret, not when the one he just discovers destroyed the happiness of his beloved Iris.


Receiving the invitation from Julian and Patricia to stay at their abode comes as a surprise to Barry, who didn't think that either of them would think that fondly of him. He had rejected her proposal after all, though it came from a place of kindness than that of love.

The sentiment was sweet, protecting him and the West household from possession of the estate through their marriage, but he couldn't marry her for that alone, couldn't imagine marrying her at all. But introducing her to Julian had been exactly what they both wanted. Two people with similar interests and temperament, people who were sharp but sweet and caring. It had been a casual introduction in town, after all, he and Julian could be considered acquaintances and work colleagues at best. But Patty, with her bashful smile and sparkling eyes had caught Julian's attention immediately, the pair spending their time courting each other. It had filled Barry with happiness, seeing the pair of them together, Patty listening - _contributing_ \- to Julian's explanation of the new scientific advancements made at the university where he had studied. They seemed to always be enraptured by the other and Barry, knowing he was responsible for the introduction, took full credit for their relationship.

Even if he didn't envision them getting married so soon.

* * *

He accepts the invitation immediately.

* * *

It had been kind of Julian to move to Patty's home after the marriage, practical, as it was closer to the university he had wanted to be transferred to, but kind all the same, no confirmation of the transfer occurring until after they had agreed.

And Barry, as the coach approaches the home, can't help but feel as though it were the right decision. Because the gardens were incredible, enough paths and acreage to walk and get lost in. The air is more fresh, the flowers more colourful and in bloom. The south is wonderful, and he knows he should travel England a lot more than he currently does, especially if there were places such as this awaiting him.

Patty is standing at the front door when the driver pulls up the cottage, a beaming smile on her face, positively glowing with joy. He doesn't waste a second to jump out of the carriage, his arms around her, pulling his cousin into a hug, chuckling as she tightens her arms around him, a squeal of delight leaving her as he is here, finally here. He doesn't want it to end, a rush of emotions hitting him after being separated for so long. Barry hadn't fully understood just how fond of her he was, not until she was here in his arms.

It is then he processes the weight pressing against his stomach, the small bulge that was hidden by her dress.

"You're -" The words leave him, awe shining in his eyes as his hands hover over her own, the bump more prevalent with her hugging it protectively. And her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, a smile so wide on her lips.

She nods quickly, hands wiping away the tears as they pour out the sides of her eyes. "Yeah."

"Oh, wow." He stutters over his words, but the smile of pride says what he can't.

"I told Julian we should name it Bartholemew, after the man who had introduced us a little over a year ago."

It elicits a wet laugh from both of them, a feeling swelling inside Barry's chest that he couldn't describe. "I don't think he would have appreciated that."

"If I wasn't pregnant I'm sure he would have kicked me out of the bed." A noise undignified leaves his mouth at the comment, so wholly untrue. Julian would never, so in love with her he wouldn't consider anything but having her right by his side. She rolls her eyes at the noise, and the sound of the carriage pulling away breaks up the conversation. "Come on, I'll show you to your room."

He collects his luggage and follows her inside the house, Patty showing him to his room, allowing Barry to familiarise himself with the location. It is a perfect place for her, for them, and he couldn't be any more pleased that she had found herself a doting husband and a wonderful house.

Barry ignores that soft pang inside himself, ignores the longing for his own partner and home and child.

And he settles into his room.

* * *

It is sunset when Julian finally arrives at the house, a brisk handshake all that he offers the Barry. Patty, he offers something much more affectionate, a gentle kiss on the back of her palms, words whispered that Barry couldn't hear for they were not for his ears.

It brings a blush to Patty's cheeks, and Barry finds himself turning away, ignoring the fascination that bubbles up inside him at the glimpse he had, ignoring the feeling of loneliness, the desire to find a love like theirs.

They settle down for the afternoon, Julian regaling stories of his work, Barry and Patty listening in interest. It is only when the clock strikes seven that Patty is drawn from the world of scientific curiosity and discussion they had all fell to. She jumps up from her seat, a conversation without a word spoken, done between her and Julian. His eyes light up and it has a nervousness settling into Barry's bones.

"Come on Barry," Patty says, tugging him into a standing position, a keen eye scanning his outfit before nodding sharply to herself. "We're going to Cisco's for dinner. His laboratory is simply incredible _,_ you _must_ see it."

Julian nods at her words, a slap on the back as leaves the room to freshen up. "Come on mate, loosen up. It'll be a blast."

* * *

If he hopes for an explanation to who this Cisco is, he doesn't receive it until the walk to the house, Patty reciting all his accomplishments and interests. Apparently a love of science had bonded the two neighbours, the Albert's often spending hours with Mr Ramon, endless topics spoken and debated until exhaustion.

Barry feels as if he knows the man before they reach the front door, can feel a kinship with him that he hopes will translate into reality.

* * *

It does.

* * *

The man is just as sweet as he sounds, a wide smile on his face comes to the door, the servants hovering over his shoulder, ready to take their coats. He is an affectionate man, pulling the Albert's into a hug, gentle and lingering and Barry can feel the love between the trio.

"Cisco!" The exclamation is muffled by his shoulder, Patty pulling away and smiling brightly. Barry almost feels like an intruder on the threesome, but she gestures toward him, barely a word out of her mouth before Mr Ramon pulls him into a hug of his own, pulling away far too quickly, a dazed Barry unsure of anything, not when Mr Ramon puts his hands on his shoulders and gives him a brisk shake.

"It is very nice to meet you my good man." There a wide smile on this stranger's face, and Barry finds himself relaxing immediately, a kindred spirit found in Mr Ramon's soul. It could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, he thinks. He hopes.

"You seem happy mate." Julian elbows Mr Ramon in the side, a twinkle in his eyes.

It is as though the question brings more life into the man's bodily frame, a joy lighting up his countenance. "Caitlin and Ronnie are staying for a while." And he cannot hide the delight he feels, smile stretching further as he utters the words.

It doesn't strike Barry that the Caitlin Mr Ramon spoke of would also be _his_ Caitlin. Not that Miss Snow was his Caitlin, but rather, the only Caitlin he had the displeasure of being acquainted with.

But then they all walk towards the sitting room, and he sees her there standing, a slinky green dress on, the young woman leaning on the back of a chair, talking to a tall, dark-haired man, head tilted back in laughter.

And oh, he thinks.

 _Oh_.

* * *

(Oh no.)

* * *

The dinner is stilted, or maybe it is just Barry, because no one else seems to pick up on the tension in the room. Miss Snow seems to be in an intimate conversation with Mr Raymond, whispering quietly with each other, secret smiles and soft words shared between them. He doesn't know why it distracts him so, captivating him more than it should.

"So you lived near Netherfield Park?" His head jerks to Mr Ramon, distracted from the conversations around him.

"Hmm, yeah." He nods sharply.

"So you know Miss Snow then? When she was staying with the Thawne's?" There is almost an excitement in Mr Ramon's smile, the man distracted from his meal at the mere notion.

His gaze flits to her against his will, lingering as she smiles and laughs with Mr Raymond. "Yeah, we're acquainted."

It feels like an inaccurate word to describe them. But it is all he can think of.

"She -" Mr Ramon clears his throat and it is that which pulls Barry's attention away from the lady on the other side of the table and toward the man he was conversing with. "She was treated well there, wasn't she?" His question is met with silence, Barry far too surprised by the urgency and concern in the tone of Mr Ramon to consider answering it, of alleviating his fears. It prompts Mr Ramon to stumble on, pressing the importance of the question. "She won't speak much of her trip there, of the people. And I fear there was an incident that may have troubled her. So, I was hoping..." He sighs and there is a shift in the aura surrounding is dampened when in comparison to but ten minutes previous. It is dramatic and Barry appreciates just how much he cares for his friend.

"How did the two of you become acquainted?" It isn't a question he was anticipating, Barry left momentarily speechless at his own words. Because he cared not for her, cared nothing about her past, her life. But he was intrigued now, no matter how much he didn't want to care. The words soften Mr Ramon, the man's demeanour lighting up at the memories.

"You've met Mr Thawne, have you not? He -to my knowledge - also resided in Netherfield Park for the time?" A nod encourages him to continue on, Mr Ramon quickly becoming lost in his past. "Well, Miss Snow was almost an adoptive member of the Thawne family, her father and him oft in discussions with regards to their work. She studied, she learnt, and when I became a pupil of Mr Thawne, she became my best friend. And when my elder brother died -" He cuts himself off, and the anguish of the loss still shines in his eyes. "I don't know how I would have kept myself together if not for her unwavering loyalty and support. Miss Snow is worth 100 good men and you must forgive me, but I will always be protective of her."

There is much more that Mr Ramon would not divulge, Barry can see it in the looks that he shouldn't be privy to, the repressed feelings that could never be spoken aloud. And it makes no sense, how the cold, uncaring woman who despises dancing, could inspire such loyalty and devotion as she did from Mr Ramon, how she could possibly be a rock to such a loving and caring man when she was so unfeeling herself.

It shakes him to his core, this new version of Miss Snow that he had never been exposed to before. "Mr Ramon -" Barry stops, Mr Ramon lifting a hand, silencing him without a single world.

"Cisco, please. I think you're entitled to that after I bore my soul to you like I did."

It brings a flicker of a smile to Barry's lips. "Cisco then. I do believe that she was treated well by the Thawne's. They seemed very generous and, from what I gathered, they both seemed determined to have her involved and a part of the family, I imagine." His words seem to soothe Cisco, the man relaxing in his chair, a lingering smile on his lips as he nods at Barry's words. It is that which encourages him to continue, Barry leaning in conspiratorially, "though there were balls and, even though men outnumbered women, she refused to dance."

But she did dance, he thinks. Once.

With him.

Barry doesn't confess that, not to Cisco, barely even to himself.

* * *

They migrate to the drawing room, Miss Snow gravitating towards the pianoforte, the men and Patty distracted by conversations of possible technological advancements being debated in Oxford. They were all educated and opinionated, and, had the situation been any different, he would find himself just as vocal, just as fierce in his arguments.

But Barry finds something else, someone else, holding his attention and he cannot find it in himself to stop.

She plays the piano elegantly, fingers dancing over the ebony and ivory keys, barely a smile on her lips even while the music itself was lively and joyful, bringing the rest of their spirits to high levels.

He finds himself paying less attention to the talk around him and more to the woman on the other side of the room, a musical instrument beneath her fingers and a gift he could only hope to achieve a fraction of. She is alone and isolated over there, voluntarily, losing herself in the music.

Barry looks, but he can't see it, can't see how the cold, uncaring lady who hates dancing and brushes off others like dirt on her clothing could possibly be the same woman Cisco says she was. It is impossible to reconcile the woman he knew and the one he was told she could be.

It haunts him throughout the night, but he can't see himself mentioning it to anyone else

"She's incredible, isn't she?" Mr Raymond approaches him, his presence startling Barry out of the trance he had slipped into without ever realising. "She's been able to play like that ever since her father bought her a pianoforte at ten and four."

"You've known her for that long?"

Mr Raymond chuckles at the surprise in Barry's voice. "We've known each other since the cot."

"And you're..." Barry drifts off, biting his bottom lip to stop the rest of the question from tumbling out.

"Oh no." He laughs it off but he can't mask the longing underlying it. "Just childhood friends."

It doesn't make sense, her ability to make everyone fall in love with her, not when her demeanour and treatment of others isn't tolerable in the slightest.

It distracts him, Barry watching her, not with disdain but curiosity.

And when he leaves Cisco's home that night, he isn't sure what he feels toward Miss Snow anymore.

* * *

Patty and Barry pull up at Cisco's home late Friday morning, Julian having ducked out of their house to attend the university. Patty had taken Barry around the town throughout the week, but discussion with her on Thursday night alerted him to the fact that she frequented the Ramon home every Friday morning.

It is an hour before noon when they finally arrive, breakfast a longer affair than usual, Patty rummaging through sheets of paper in her room to find what she was looking for, a exclamation of joy when she finds the formulae she had spent a week working to perfect before the weekly meeting.

Cisco opens the door, eyes alight as he drags both of them into the house, rambling on about his discoveries and potential theories. It is like a whirlwind for Barry, a barrage of information he can make neither head nor tail out of, and he seems to be the only one, Patty responding to Cisco's ramblings with those of her own.

Finally they stop and he can take stock of where they are. The laboratory.

And, Barry concedes, the Albert's were right, the laboratory was incredible.

He wanders around it with child-like glee, eyes wide and mind scrambling to understand how everything works and its purpose. He makes a full circuit of the room before realising that Mr Raymond and Miss Snow had joined them. Three of them had started talking but Miss Snow, he realises, while listening, wasn't making any contributions to the conversation. Her eyes catch him and he struggles to not look away in response, Barry making deliberate steps to join the group.

"I was going to take a walk through the gardens," she states out loud, the other conversation dying momentarily as they all turned to listen to her. "You are welcome to join me Mr Allen if you so choose." In a hushed whisper she continues, "Cisco and Patty are in the middle of a project and while I could try and understand, they are months into development and it would take far too much time away from them for explanations. Ronnie is only there because they had been mailing each other letters on the topic. Feel free to stay however, it's just an offer." There is a smile on her lips, or at least, there is the teasing of one, Miss Snow looking so much more happier than he had seen her yet.

It was a drastic shift from her norm.

And, he thinks later that night when reflecting on his actions, this is why he says what he does.

"I - okay then Miss Snow, if you don't mind the company."

She smiles more brightly at his acceptance and, not for the first time, he wonders if he had mischaracterised her completely.

It is a brisk walk, and conversation is scattered and scarce, but it is different. It is though he is seeing Miss Snow in a new light, sunlight shining down on the woman, illuminating her in its rays. And he stops, much more than he would on any normal walk, the excuse of appreciating the beauty of his surroundings stumbles off of his tongue when she stops, a quizzical expression on her face.

It is what he doesn't tell her that is the cause of his embarrassment, because it wasn't only nature's beauty he was appreciating in the beautiful spring sunshine,

it was also her own.

* * *

The church is stunning, Cisco and Miss Snow encouraging them all to attend with them that Sunday morning.

And Barry can't really avoid attending, not when Patty was delivering the sermon, Julian and Mr Raymond - _Ronnie_ \- also going. Luckily Barry manages to be seated by Ronnie, the man with a horrible habit of fidgeting. He discovers quickly that Ronnie is a man of action, that staying still for hours isn't comfortable. Ronnie is a kindred spirit he isn't expecting and, although he feels guilty, Barry can't help but lean side ward and start a conversation during the sermon.

Patty glares at them from the pulpit, their quiet whispering obvious even to her. He knows the moment that they get home he will be scolded and can only hope that Julian will be there to soothe her before her anger overwhelms.

It's Julian, so he doubts it.

"So, how long are you here for?" Barry asks, head ducked as though her were reading from the Bible and not talking to his new friend.

Ronnie chuckles, to himself and out loud. "For however long Caitlin is, I'm at her command." It takes Barry by surprise and yet, it makes perfect sense, fits into the mould he has of her. Or rather, the one that he had for so long. Demanding, cold. Of course she was take pleasure in dictating the lives of her friends. _And maybe he wasn't so off on his perception of her after all._ He needs to bite his tongue to hold back the retort - there is no universe where his words would be taken kindly by his company. "I think she'll want to go back to London soon, what with Edward and his constant depressions."

It takes all the strength Barry has not to freeze at the mention of Eddie. "Oh, why?" The false lightness in his voice is grating to his ears but there is an obliviousness to it by Ronnie that Barry can't help but feel thankful for.

"Oh, apparently back at Netherfield there was a girl." Ronnie seems to light up at the chance to converse and gossip. "Cute, but using the poor man, so Caitlin put a swift end to that. He's nursing a broken heart, but god - imagine if he had pursued it further, he would be more devastated."

The rest of Ronnie's words fade into nothingness, the pieces falling together. And oh, how he had misdirected the blame at everyone but the culprit of his sister's unhappiness.

"Was it -" His voice catches, "was it because of her colour?"

"God no." Ronnie manages to look ashamed at the glare thrown his way from Patty, his exclamation too loud to disguise. Not enough to shut up however. "Caitlin would never care for that. Apparently he loved more fiercely than she ever did."

The feeling of betrayal is swift, clawing at his heart, the beating organ slowed by the viscous black coating of the emotion. He had started to believe his impression of her was wrong, and he was correct. For she was much worse than he had ever envisaged, more heartless than he had ever imagined. It was her, she was responsible for upending the happiness of his sister, of the tears and the denial and the heart break.

It was Miss Snow.

* * *

The clap of thunder is nothing to deter Barry from taking a walk after the Sunday sermon, ignoring the calls by the Albert's to wait for a carriage, confused looks from Mr Raymond and Cisco doing nothing to discourage him or slow his stride. He brushes past them, ignoring the rules of propriety that he had always sworn by. There was a darkening of the sky, a promise that wouldn't fail to be delivered, but he goes on. The spring shower is nothing to compare with the storm of emotions inside him,

Barry is unaware that he is followed, not when the rain starts storming down, not as he starts running, the burning in his lungs unable to ease the pain in his heart. All he can think, all he can see is Iris, tears streaming down her face when she was unaware of his presence, of the way she tried to hold herself together when the moving of Mr Edward Thawne left her heart falling apart.

She didn't deserve the agonies inflicted upon her, but to hear that Miss Snow was responsible, that she found the separation a point of pride and not a source of shame and embarrassment... it leaves an emptiness inside of him that he wants to explain away, that he cannot.

He can only find himself able to breathe when he is unable to do so, the burning in his chest a resultant of exhaustion more than heart ache. It is only now that he considers his surroundings, the sky black.

And as he looks up, does the rain come down.

There is a gazebo in the distance, and he takes his time approaching it, choosing to sit and wait for the storm to pass than endeavour to make his way to the cottage, or at least Rosings Park.

But then he sees a figure in the distance, and as the person approaches he feels his heart fall to the floor. Fate is a fickle mistress, because he came here to avoid her and now she's the only one he can see. Miss Snow runs quickly, the hem of her dress ruined by the mud, the rest of it by the rain.

She is soaking from the rain, dress utterly ruined, hair stringy and clinging to her face. But she is still beautiful. And he hates her for it.

"What are you doing here?"

She appears oblivious to the hatred dripping in his voice, Miss Snow wiping the hair out of her face. He can barely look at her, Barry choosing to pace instead. The anger bubbles just under the surface, an uncontrollable monster so close to breaching the surface. It wouldn't be right to lash out though he desires to. "I - I had to come after you. I couldn't just leave you to storm off alone, not when you were so obviously distressed by something."

Her words cause him to stop, Barry turning to her, confusion and anger warring inside him. "Why would you even care?"

She takes a step toward him, looks at him beseechingly and it makes no sense, this callous woman attempting to show any semblance of emotion. "You know, surely you know -"

"What?!" And like that the monster inside reaches the surface, Barry snapping at her.

"I know it doesn't make any sense, it certainly isn't advantageous in any way for me. But you can't control matters of the heart and even though it goes against everything I was taught, even given, the circumstances of your family and the your rank. I've tried to fight it, but I can't so, it would only make sense to accept it and -"

"The circumstances of my family?" And it is incredulous, the words he is hearing, the way it cuts through him. "What are you trying to say Miss Snow?" The rein he manages on his emotions is miraculous, but he tries.

"Surely you know the gossip that follows you, father hanged for the murder of his wife, the boy suffering delusions following the death he witnessed. The rumours that follow you; none of this makes sense and yet I cannot help but feel as I do."

"May I ask for the reason that you followed me, only to make disparaging comments about those I care for?"

"I love you." She shrugs helplessly, and he can't tell if it is raindrops or tears rolling down the sides of her face. "I've tried not to, I've wanted not to. But I do."

Barry startles, unprepared for her words. "Well then, I apologise for pain you've endured. I did not mean to inflict it." They come out terse, his jaw clenched in anger.

"I - Are you mocking me?" And she has the gall to act hurt, as though she were an innocent in this.

"No, I would never." The derision in his tone is evident, and though his words have the appearance of civility, they both are aware of the disgust beneath them. "I'm just unsure as to what you want. An apology is the best I can offer you, unless you were seeking a proposal?" The look on her face betrays her emotion. It is enough to elicit a broken laugh from Barry, the man looking skyward, in disbelief and awe. "Were you truly? After you have denied, perhaps forevermore, the happiness of my sister?" And it is his words which finally bring out the Miss Snow he was familiar with, the cold woman with ice in place of a he keeps on pushing her, pushing and pushing until he could make her snap as she did him. "Or what - are you pretending to be innocent in the mess you orchestrated? That Mr Thawne was simply compelled to leave Netherfield Park and Iris without the encouragement of you." His words are bitter, the glare thrown her direction sharp. "You broke them up, and for what? Jealousy?"

It elicits a laugh, an empty bark of laughter. "Jealousy - of what? It was obvious that Eddie was more attached to her than she him." His lips curl into a sneer at the use of Mr Edward Thawne's Christian name, and a nickname moreover. "I love my friend dearly and if making tough decisions to help protect his heart needed to be made by me than so be it." There was pride in her tone, a satisfaction that makes him sick.

"You know nothing of what she has gone through." Anger sustains him more than he could have determined, it warms him up, Barry almost vibrating with rage.

Miss Snow, cold and clinical, is more measured in her voice. And heavens above, he thinks, how could he have imagined her to be any different than what she is? "Pray tell me why she wouldn't make any indications of anything more than casual affection for a man who was so clearly devoted to her?"

And it's the dismissal of Iris' deep feelings that rile him up once more. "Oh, excuse me," he scoffs. "But you were not a witness of the scorn and abuse she received simply for the colour of her skin. Of course she isn't well versed in showing the world her feelings, she barely shows her true emotions to me!" There is a measured pause, Barry taking the time to steady himself, blinking away the tears burning his eyes. "People, ever since she was but a child, have taken pleasure in her pain, and Iris learnt to hide the hurt, to not give them the satisfaction of a response. So please, forgive her if hiding her true emotions is something she's been forced to do since childhood. But that does not mean for one moment that she doesn't feel deeply, and for Mr Thawne -" a weak smile crosses his face, tainted by painful memories of a past he had witnessed, but not lived. "She was happy with him, she was so very earnestly happy with him, and to take that away..."

There is remorse in her eyes, Miss Snow struck silent by his words. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't realise - I could only make judgements on what I witnessed -"

He ignores her, Barry charging ahead. "Oh, and what of Jay Garrick?"

So caught up in his emotion, does he miss how she stops breathing, how she freezes. If he looked closely, if he dared to, he'd see the sliver of pain and fear lurking beneath her tough exterior. But he does not, chooses not to.

And in an instant that vulnerability is gone, her emotions sealed off. "I know no one by that name." Her voice is clipped and that, he notices, notices the sharp way she addresses someone whose life she had, once again, ruined.

The growl of frustration takes them both by surprise, Barry running his fingers through his hair, rain droplets disturbed and sent rolling down his face. He continues to pace around the gazebo, piercing gaze still focussing on her, unable to be anywhere else. "Why do you choose to continue lying to me? How could this possibly be the basis could a relationship stem from?" There is sarcasm coating his words.

"Why do you persist to ask questions on issues you are not privy to?" And there is a flare of emotion, one he hadn't seen in her, so usually detached and unfeeling. "Drop. It."

"I know enough, but please, enlighten me." There is a cruel edge to his voice, Barry looking down on her, Miss Snow's eyes aflame with fire and heat and it is cold outside. He craves warmth.

It is only then he realises that, in the heat of their argument, they had drawn closer. So much closer in fact. He sees the dusting of freckles across her nose, the pigment standing out more now than previously before, her skin now pale and white. He watches as her eyes dart from one side of his face to the other, watches how they drop to his lips. He watches how she licks her own in response.

She lingers and it makes him painfully aware, unable to not notice how their chests brush against each other's with each inhale. The shift in the atmosphere is sharp, the air electrifying around then. And he can't help but remember his traitorous thoughts, of how beautiful she is, of the feeling inside his chest when he first laid his eyes upon her. Because up close, where he can admire her, admire all of her, it is a dangerous position to be in. Her bottom lip trembles, he notices, probably from the chill settling into her bones, dress and skin soaked from the torrential rain that had run through but an hour before. He shouldn't be distracted by such a small movement as her lips, but he finds it easier to stare at than her eyes, so bright and bewitching.

She leans in towards him, the minute distance between them shrinking at her motion. He thinks it for warmth, thinks she is drawn to his own, but her eyes betray a truth he isn't expecting, but unsurprising all the same. They flicker down to his own lips, and they linger, gaze almost tracing the outline.

"Is this your answer then?" She whispers the words, still so close to him. It feels intimate, soft voices and close bodies, and it scares him, scares him because he hadn't made a move to leave. And he should. "You want nothing to do with me?"

He almost nods in response to her question, catching himself only moments before he does so. Because they were still close, too close. If he were to even try he would brush lips with her. And that would be dangerous - he isn't sure how he'd respond if it were to happen.

"You destroyed, possibly forever, the happiness of the one woman I love. I could never forgive you for that, and I would never forgive myself for even contemplating anything more." His words are soft, but lethal, her head turning to the side as though it were a physical blow.

"Okay," and she takes the step away from him. He longs for her proximity once more, even as he despises himself for the baser thoughts. She nods to him, to herself, her tongue heavy in her mouth. "Okay."

And like a ghost she vanishes from his sight, Barry left standing there for hours after and no more settled.

* * *

It is a cruel thing to inflict on Patty, his beloved cousin watching in concern as he retreats to his room, a feeble excuse on his lips as to why he couldn't attend the luncheon at the Ramon house. He knows it is weak, knows it hurts her and angers Julian, but he cannot muster the strength to leave the house, is unsure if he possessed the control needed to face Miss Snow once more without bursting into another argument with her.

He can't fathom the idea of seeing *her* there, can't stomach the idea of pretending nothing had previously happened.

It is cowardice that leads him to hide in his room, but he knows and acknowledges that fact, if not to everyone else then to himself.

But Patty allows him this flaw, her and Julian pulling away in their carriage, leaving him alone in their abode to stew in the torrent of emotions that had crept on him, now threatening him like a tidal wave, moments away from being swept up by it.

It can only be but an hour after they leave that there is a knock on the door, Barry moving to open the door, to blinded by his feelings to question who would be at the door at this time.

He should have,

because it was her.

It was Miss Snow.

Neither of them speak initially, her shallow breaths filling the air as she watches him with wide eyes, flinching at the hatred burning within his.

"I realise I'm the last person you would like to see," she starts, lips pursed together tightly after the finishing the sentence. "You accused me of various grievous attacks on my friends and yours alike, I just ask for the opportunity to defend myself against these crimes." She holds out a letter to him, and Barry, too overcome with surprise and curiosity, takes it from her hand, Miss Snow flinching as his fingers brush against her bare hands.

She turns her back on him quickly, Barry left staring outside long after she left, the warm night's breeze doing nothing to heat up his cold skin. But finally, finally, when he was sure he wouldn't immediately burn the paper in his hands, does he go and close the door, retreating to his room.

It is with shaking hands, of anger, of fear and trepidation, does he open the letter, eyes greedily scanning for its content, its justifications, its excuses.

 _Dear Mr Allen,_

 _I accept the rejection you made abundantly clear last Sunday, have no fear, I am not repeating my feelings. I do, however, feel as though you perjure me with these ill-conceived notions you cling to most ardently. So, if you permit me the time, I feel I must explain my actions._

 _In order to adequately address your former alleged grievance, I must first explain the latter..._

The feeling of revulsion overwhelms him when he finally learns the truth between her and Jay - _Hunter_. She was still a girl, not yet sixteen when she had met the older man, tall and handsome and dignified. There was still a few months before she would be formally introduced to society and, having spent so long in the laboratories, trailing her mother and father and, after that Mr Thawne, quenching her scientific thirst, interactions with males her age was limited.

It doesn't take long for her to fall in love with the mysterious older man who bestowed upon her affection and gifts, who made her feel treasured and special. She was but a child, unaware of the cruelties of other people, not yet jaded by the human experience. Pure.

She had never imagined it would be used against her.

They had planned to elope, she confesses, ink smudged from what he could only assume were tears of a pain and past not yet healed. The paper crinkled from drying, the torrent of tears making it uneven and rough. He tries to smooth it with his hands, as though the action could soothe the heart which wrote it. He fails in his efforts and he grunts in frustration, running fingers through his hair before picking up the letter and continuing.

She had fallen in love with the man she believed Hunter to be,

he had fallen in love with her wealth.

She recites in clinical detail the abuse she had endured by his hand, the bruises, the tears, the verbal assaults. And she had endured it for so long, his apologies and soothing words enough to make her forgive and forget.

Miss Snow had been shaking, he realised. She had been made to relive all her pain for him, to explain herself to him.

Barry wasn't sure how deep his self-loathing was until that very thought.

And so, reading of Eddie, of the boy who saved her from the neglect of her parents while she was but a child, who was her only friend in the world at such an age, of the man who had saved her from the depths of despair she had spiralled towards, it made everything more clear. He was her saviour, noticing the marks, the abuse. He had convinced her to abandon the plans, had protected her when Hunter sought his revenge on the woman.

Eddie was more than a person in her eyes, he was her guardian angel, her greatest friend, her confidant. He was why she felt safe opening up to other men, why she didn't completely shy away from society, limiting herself to associations only with Eddie and Ronnie and Cisco.

And he understands her fear, her concern of seeing her closest friend and ally fall for the same schemes she had but a decade earlier. It hurts him to think that anyone could look at Iris in such a way so as to believe she would be capable of such deceit. But he has the benefit of a past with her, Miss Snow had nothing to rely on but the scars of her past romantic entanglement.

It makes sense that she would seek to protect him, that she would endeavour to stop him from jumping into a marriage without love, not when she was so close so as to taste, however briefly, the potential consequences of such an action. It was wrong, she was wrong. But it was understandable.

Barry devours the letter, again and then once more, memorising each detail contained within it, each turn of phrase, every full stop and comma. It stays with him long after he puts the sheets of paper down. As he lays in his bed the words haunt him, images flashing through his mind, memories more poignant with context.

His hatred of himself increases as his of her dies.

And all he knows it that he must, he _must_ see her once more.

It is with that thought he finally allows himself to fall asleep.

* * *

The next night he does attend the dinner, anticipation thrumming though his veins at the notion of meeting her again. He isn't sure how he would respond, nor did the rules of etiquette explain how he _should_. For she had bore her soul to him, had confessed feelings and secrets for his benefit.

The anger that had sustained him had evaporated, disappeared into nothingness, a confusion left in its place

His fears are for nought, a despondent Cisco telling them that Miss Snow had fallen victim to a terrible cold, after running through the rain Sunday afternoon. It takes all his strength to not stand upright and ask to visit her, the impropriety of the action the only thing holding him to his seat.

He wonders if she told anything to Cisco, but the man still embraces him with a warm smile and open arms so he believes her to not have. It leaves him itching to go and see her, to make sure that she is safe and healthy and taking care of herself.

So he could apologise and apologise until a book could be filled with his words, so that he could explain his feelings and emotions and not lash out at her.

But he couldn't, her maid taking care of her, a firm woman who wouldn't let any one interrupt Miss Snow's recovery. And it is selfish of him to want to disregard the warning, Barry uncaring for his own health in that instant, a moment with Miss Snow worth more than his own heartiness. But he couldn't, wouldn't get away with it even if he tried, both Cisco and Ronnie anxious to have her in full health, sparing no expense to achieve their need.

And so he comes back night after night, hoping for her to be well enough to come down for dinner, for her to be kind enough to listen to his apologies. He had been prejudiced, made assumptions. And while she wasn't perfect, she was the monster he envisioned.

There was a fleeting thought, a question. Because if she was no longer the cold witch he had seen her as, if she was no longer a bundle of contradictions,

what would he now see her as?

* * *

It is a week when Patty receives a letter, Cisco sending her information of Miss Snow's recovery. It has her smiling in glee, Patty determined to visit immediately and greet her newest friend. The news leaves Barry's body locked in position, a rush of emotion flooding his body.

It was his first opportunity to talk to her, it was his only real opportunity.

He doesn't intend to squander it away.

However he was able to form coherent sentences he'll never fully understand, but he manages to convince Patty that he should go ahead and alone, that she should wait for Julian to return in a quarter of an hour - the man would be confused if he returned to an empty home and, what is fifteen minutes when they would have the night to catch up.

He doesn't wait for the carriage to be set up, Barry choosing to run to their neighbours property, his speed not once slowing as he approached the home, his mind a flurry of thoughts, unsure where he would start, what he would confess, the words that would come out.

But eventually he makes it to the door, Barry almost doubling over due to his exertion, breathing air a new difficulty.

The door opens before he could knock, a pensive Cisco ready to step out. But then he catches sight of Barry, arm raised, an expectant look on his face. There is a rage that contorts his face, a look that looks misplaced on Cisco's normally cheery expression. And Barry knows in that moment, knows she had told Cisco the truth. The other man only has to spit out two words for confirmation, acid in his voice, burning Barry down to the bone.

He has the door slammed on his face,

and Caitlin,

she was gone.


End file.
